


Morir Duro

by lizardwizzard



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Criminal!Amy, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardwizzard/pseuds/lizardwizzard
Summary: Instead of joining the Lanucci Crime Family in S1E22 "Charge and Specs," Jake's undercover mission is to join the Morir Duro Gang, run by the Santiago Crime Family. Amy is not a cop, but one of the criminals.This may be Jake Peralta's most dangerous case yet. After the frenzy of getting fired by the NYPD as part of the show for his undercover mission, his next goal is to become close with the Santiago Crime Family, AKA the Morir Duro Gang. Everything is going to plan— the usual initiation job, becoming friends with those high up in the gang, and snorting fake cocaine. Except, maybe it's too perfect. He often finds himself flirting with one of the women his age, and to be specific, the sister of the sinister drug lord he's trying to take down. Her name: Amy Santiago.





	1. The Santiago Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't read the summary, instead of joining the Lanucci Crime Family in an undercover mission in S1E22 "Charge and Specs," Jake's undercover mission is to join the Morir Duro Gang, run by the Santiago Crime Family. Amy is not a cop, but one of the criminals.
> 
> Even though this is set in between the first and second season, I reference things from episodes in later seasons because I'd like to imagine they existed earlier on in the show as well.

**99th Precinct**

**8:52 PM**  

 

Jake Peralta’s desk had been collecting dust for months now. The bundled-up Rubix cube. The rubber lizard that sat on his phone. Even his prized kid’s karate trophy that he bought from the thrift store many moons ago sits covered with a layer of filth.

He wasn’t away, missing, or on vacation. The cleaning crew had gotten to the point where they were terrified to touch his desk again after finding a mouse in his drawer that had had a litter of 7 other baby mice. (Algernon Jr, Algernon 1, Algernon 2… Algernon 3, Bruce Willis…)

 

In fact, today was his last day before his most dangerous undercover mission yet.

 

“Hey Captain,” Jake knocked on the door of Holt’s office with a goofy grin on his face. The sound echoes throughout the empty precinct as everyone had already said their goodbyes to Jake and went home. “I’ve packed up my stuff. I wanted it to officially feel like I was leaving so I tidied up my desk. Oh, and fed Algernon’s babies a slice of cake I found.”

Jake sits down in the chair, and Holt takes a glance out the window into the bullpen to see a desk that even a hoarder would be scared of. The rubber lizard on Peralta’s phone stares back at him with beady red eyes.

“There are still knick knacks everywhere, Peralta.”

“Okay well I couldn’t take _everything_ away, I mean, no offence Captain, but the squad has the memory of a goldfish. It would be too painful for Charles to think I was actually gone for good.”

Hold leans back in his chair with a sigh.

“Do we need to go over the plan again?” Holt says, “Nothing can go wrong. The Morir Duro Gang is not a place that tolerates childish buffoonery.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m offended, Captain. You can tickle anyone’s funny bone if you try hard enough. But yes, I remember. I spent all night crafting an alias.” Jake’s face turns into a shadow of dramatic. “Basil Brando— His brother was murdered in Vietnam and his mother has been in a coma since he was 5 after she caught a mysterious illness. He holds the weight of his family’s life in his hands—”

“Peralta! I thought we discussed, you are playing _yourself_. You were fired from the NYPD,” the Captain sighs, “Perhaps it is you who has the memory of a goldfish.”

“Haha, fine. But I _do_ get to make up cop stories to make me sound cooler, right?”

Holt puts his hands together on his desk, leaning forward. Jake leans backs with a weird look. “Sir, what are you doing—”

“The Santiagos are the brightest of the bright. The cleverest of the clever. You meet up with one of them for 5 seconds, and the next time you come in contact  they will know everything about you from your birth to the day you will _die_.”

“Okay, that sounds actually pretty cool, even though we both know we don’t need some criminal masterminds to tell me that my death will be hella heroic—”

“The point I’m trying to make is, any lie you speak, they will instantly know the truth. You must be a hundred percent yourself.” Holt looks Jake right in the eye. Jake squirms in his chair uncomfortably; his leg bouncing up and down with nervousness.

“This is a mission you must take seriously, Peralta. I can’t have my best detective brutally _murdered_ and left in the sewers somewhere in Brooklyn.”

“Aw, Captain, I’m so flattered that you care,” Holt stares at Jake with annoyance at his comment. “Yes, I will be absolutely serious.”

The Captain’s voice is monotone, “Say it again, absolutely serious.”

Jake curls up. “Iwillbeabsolutelyserious.”

“Again!”

“I will be absolutely serious.”

The Captain stands up in a flurry out of his chair and yells right into Jake’s face. “AGAIN!”

Jake stands up too. “I. WILL. BE. ABSOLUTELY. SERIOUS! WHOO!!”

 

The only car in front of the 99th precinct at 9:45 PM was Jake’s worn down 1969 black Mustang. Captain Holt stood beside him as he packed his last box into the trunk of his car. The Captain had somehow managed to convince him to pack up all his dusty knick-knacks.

Jake closes the trunk with a slam that echoes against the buildings across the empty street. “This is really happening.”

Holt nods. “Be safe Peralta. We will speak on the other side.”

Jake smiles at his Captain. It’s killing him not to crack a joke to fizzle out the seriousness of the conversation.  “Thanks, boss. I’m going to hug you now.”

“That is not necessary—”

“Bahh I’m going to do it anyways. I’m coming in!”

Jake wraps his arms around Holt with surprising strength. The Captain’s arms stay at his sides, but Jake isn’t surprised.

Holt is released and Jake opens the door to his car. “Bye Captain! Are you sure I can’t be Basil Brando? I have a very compelling story—”

“Goodbye Peralta.”

“Okeh,” Jake bite his bottom lip in disappointment. “Byeeeeeee!”

 

**Doogie’s (Bar & Lounge)**

**1:12 AM**

 

After his fifth pint of beer and second trip to the washroom, Jake Peralta can’t understand why his hands are so damn small.

“Woman hands…” he mumbles to himself, stumbling out of the bathroom of a random bar called Doogie’s. What a silly name.

After his final meeting with his ‘formal’ boss at the precinct, he had driven 30 minutes to a small area in Brooklyn called Brownsville: the main location of the Morir Duro Gang. He had prepared himself for a fun night of solo partying by listening to half of a Carly Rae Jepsen album. He was here to spread some special news.

He drops himself back onto the bar. “I’ll take another big beer in one of those glass cup thingies.”

He sways his head dramatically to the right, where two men are sipping some alcohol Jake can’t name. “Okay… one of whatever that guy is having for that guy,” Jake points, “And one of that guy’s drink for the other guy.”

Jake chuckles. “And another round for everyone!”

The whole pub cheers.

“What’s the occasion, bud?” A gruff looking man a couple of seats down from him asks.

“Well, _that_ is a story, my friend. My name is Jake Peralta, and I just got fired from the NYPD.”

 

While he’s waiting for his Uber to come to pick him up and bring him home to his new temporary housing for the case, the new phone Jake has for his mission buzzes with a text. It is from Jake’s best friend! Raymond Holt.

 

**Dear Jake,**

**I hope your night is going well. I have just received more intel about the Santiago gathering tomorrow night. Six of the eight Santiago siblings will be there, not just Pablo and David. Detective Diaz has found some background information on all of them. I have attached the file.**

**Sincerely, Captain Holt.**

**santiagosiblings.pdf**

 

The Uber arrives. It takes about 10 minutes for Jake to fully understand what the letters on his screen were saying. “Sannn-Lagos… Iblings. No, wait! Santiago Siblings. Yes, I am a genius!” Jake yells out in the backseat of the Audi Q5 he’s in. He may have accidentally ordered Uber SUV Premium.

The driver looks back at his passenger in the rear-view mirror, “You know the Santiagos?”

The driver’s Spanish accent is thick, but in his drunken daze, Jake still understands it. “I’m in the process joining their gang. I hear they have really nice cocaine.”

The driver nods with interest. “I just buy their weed. It’s the best shit in Brooklyn if you ask me.”

Jake takes a moment to try to sober up. Even as it was part of the show to get _hella_ drunk and spread the word at a sketchy bar that a Brooklyn cop named Jake Peralta was recently fired, he still had to focus and continue his mission.

“Who do you meet with to buy? I smoked some pot as a kid. Cocaine just doesn’t give the same type of kick, though.”

The driver doesn’t even bat an eye. “His name is Tony. We actually meet at Doogie’s every once and a while. He’s got six other brothers and a younger sister, real foxy that one. All the brothers are super competitive because the gotta compete for the attention of their parents, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah. Makes sense.”

Jake’s hands are bubbling with excitement. Five seconds into the undercover mission and he already knows a person connected to the Santiagos. “What’s your name, man?” Jake asks, “Maybe when I’m tight with them I can mention you and get you a discount on your dope.”

The driver’s big smile is visible to Jake from the rearview mirror. “My name is Marco. That would be much appreciated, Jake.”

Jake’s head shoots forward. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

 

_Is my cover blown already? Am I going to die? Ohmygod I’m so dead—_

 

Marco looks at Jake in confusion form the rear-view window, “It shows it on the app, man.”

Jake stares in silence.

 

_Right._

 

He opens the app to see Marco’s name staring back at him too.

 

He pays Marco a tip, waves goodbye, and watches as his Uber drives down the dimly-lit street. Before the car is out of view, Jake snaps a photo of the license plate. Just for later, just in case.

 

The temporary housing Jake is staying in is barren and boring. It reminds him of his Grandma’s apartment before he moved in with all four of his massage chairs. The dull paintings are framed with a dull beige, and the dull sofa and dull chairs in the living room are a dull brown and look about a hundred years old. Dull, dull, dull. But _at_ _least_ the television is sixty-five inches with surround sound, and 4K photo! (Jake requested one thing. _Die Hard marathon!!!_ ) He brought his whole DVD collection and even wrote down his Netflix password for once so he could log in again.

Jake grabs a glass of water from the kitchen before crashing down on the couch— he knows his headache tomorrow morning will be painful. He also knows he has to bring up his boxes from the car, but his legs are heavy, _and his palms are sweaty. Mom’s spaghetti_. Jake chuckles to himself.

 

Opening the text he got earlier from Holt, he reads it over again. He clicks the link and a Google Doc pops open.

 

**Santiago Siblings:**

 

 **Pablo:** _Age:_ 36 Extremely dangerous, intelligent, and precise. Approach with caution. Heroin addict. The leader of the Morir Duro Gang. Liked My Little Pong until age 16. Read more...

 

 **David:** _Age:_ 35 “The Golden Child.” Has a long-standing rivalry with Amy. Does not participate in drugs, drink caffeine, or eat high-processed sugar. Main drug organizer. Read more...

 

 **Tony:** _Age:_ 35 Fearless, risk-taking, and competitive. Likes making lists. Has an obsession with the show, Breaking Bad. The weed dealer of the family. Has a network of dealers that work for him. Occasionally does LSD. Read more...

 

 **Lorenzo:** _Age:_ 33 Unknown. Most likely lives in Cuba with Grandparents.

 

 **Leonardo:** _Age:_ 32 Arrogant, charming, and persistent. The heroin and cocaine dealer of the family. Has a network of dealers that work for him. Likes baking and math. Stoner. Read more...

 

 **Amy:** _Age:_ 30 Extremely competitive, intelligent and resourceful. Jealous easily. A terrible cook. Smokes cigarettes when nervous or stressed. Plays the french horn. Likes Harry Potter. Read more...

 

 **Julio:** _Age:_ 29 Unknown. Most likely lives in Cuba with Grandparents.

 

 **Isaac:** _Age:_ 28 “The Quiet One.” Meticulous, determined, and maniacal. Organizes heists. Possibly insane. Read more...

 

**Information on the Santiago parents is yet to be discovered.**

 

Jake closes the message and lays his phone on his chest. The risk of his case has finally had time to dawn on him, and a hint of fear has settled in his stomach. He will be away from everyone he knows for months, maybe even years.

 

“No spiralling allowed, Jake,” he mumbles to himself.

 

_I will make the best out of it! Who knows, maybe you’ll be friends with some of them. Even though they are evil criminal masterminds. Keep it positive Peralta! But what if they find out about your identity? They will brutally murder you. You will be left in the sewers to rot…_

 

“Shit. That got dark fast.”

 

It takes him an absurd amount of time to sit up, but with a loud groan, he grabs a sip of his water. A painting of what seems like two girls playing piano stares back at him. They seem very peaceful.

“Screw your happiness!” He yells at the painting.

 

**Jake’s Temporary Apartment**

**11:17 AM**

 

The morning sun glares at Jake where he passed out on the couch. He opens his eyes, and even the dull browns of the entire apartment seem to burn into his skull. Everything hurts.

 

_So this is what death feels like. At least I’m preparing myself for what may happen on this mission._

 

After somehow managing to bring up all of his boxes to his apartment on the fifth floor, the headache Jake had been trying to ignore slapped him right in the face again. What once was organized boxes stacked on top of each other five second prior, now has been thrown everywhere as Jake looks for the random medicine he had kept in his bathroom at his real apartment, just in case.

 

“WHERE. IS. THE. TYLENOL!” Jake screams, getting to his knees in a fit.

_Or is it aspirin I need? At this point, I have no idea._

 

After his quick drive to the CVS nearby, Jake’s head is finally starting to feel like forty-seven hammers aren’t hammering into his brain anymore, and more like a tolerable twelve. He sips on the orange soda he bought in the parking lot of the strip mall. Reading over the pdf file on the Santiagos feels entirely new, as any recollection of last night was a small fizzle of memory at the back of his mind. Jake still finds he has to read over some sentences once or twice to get it in his brain.

 

Jake was _very_ drunk last night.

 

As much nervousness was within him, Jake wouldn’t acknowledge it. The party the Santiagos were hosting was tonight was a big thank you for all their suppliers, dealers, and other random criminals in Brooklyn who heard about it. This was Jake’s chance to be able to learn more about the mysterious crime family, and everyone involved; The Santiagos were a secret and protective family. The FBI had been on their tail for years, but nothing was every accomplished.

 

_That’s why they are sending me in._

Jake chuckles with nervousness, “Hahaha . . . I’m going to die aren’t I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my first chapter. This is the first ever fanfiction I've written so any feedback or supportive comments would be much appreciated.
> 
> Next chapter will be out sometime next week!
> 
> -lizardwizzard


	2. The Morir Duro Castle

**The Santiago’s Mansion**

**9:37 PM**

 

The light from the full moon above danced across the towering brick walls of the old mansion and curved around the castle-like roof in front of him. As the trees sway in the wind, the night dawned upon him as if he was going to murder everyone within the house like John Wick. The hedges lining the pathway towards the door looked as if they were trimmed merely this morning, and the lawn clipped with the most precise scissors.

 

This is how Jake Peralta would describe the Santiago’s mansion if he was a dramatic writer. 

 

_ The next mutherfuckin’ Stephen King, yo! _

 

His notes told him that no matter the occasion, the Santiagos always dressed as if they worked 9-5 for a high-tier bank in Manhattan, even though none of that was ever going to be near the truth. He had packed all of his plaid shirts and the two suits he owned, and  _ possibly _ a couple of graphic t-shirts for comfy time back at his temporary home. Dressing like James Bond all the time may be  _ hella  _ cool, but was not pleasant for movie marathons and binge-eating Cheetos.

 

There were cars running down the entire side of the road, with vehicles ranging from Bentley and Tesla to Toyota and Honda. Each of the houses in this neighbourhood was fairly spread apart, so it was easy for Jake to deduce that every car was here for the party. He could already tell the demographics of the gathering. But at least the criminals cared enough about the environment enough to buy electric cars. 

_ So many Priuses and Teslas! Elon Musk would be proud of these druggie criminals. _

Walking up the crisp-edged pavement towards the grand front door of the  _ castle, (I’m calling it that now. The Morir Duro Castle. Like an evil villain's lair)  _ Jake nodded towards the two young men in all black suits smoking cigars standing on the stairway in light conversation. The seemingly insignificant illumination of their cigars acted as dim flames to carve the shadows deeper into the archway of the front entrance for Jake. Intimidation found a small burrow in his stomach.

The music from inside becomes louder as Jake stands in front of the door. He admires the woodwork on it.  _ The door knocker is a bit dramatic? A snake looking like it's going to murder me isn't exactly inviting.  _

Jake examines at it for a while, before finding himself in an unexpected staring contest with the beady-eyed inanimate metal snake. Its fake teeth look much too sharp. 

“You going in buddy?”

Jake turns to the voice from behind him— one of the bouncers—er,  _ normal men _ with the large cigars has turned towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, good idea,” Jake looks down at his unpolished shoes and slightly sways back and forth on his heels, “Do you think I should knock or—?”

“Ahh don’t worry about it,” the man reassures him, his partner beside him observing the exchange with his dark eyes absorbing the moon-lit sky, “We’ve seen crazier new faces come in tonight. It’s not usual for the Morir Duro to be so open with their parties. My buddy and I here have a bet that even the Pigs will know about this party at the end of the night!”

The two men laugh at each other. Jake is mildly offended but remains neutral.

“Haha... cool, cool, cool,” Jake laughs awkwardly, “Well I’ll see you guys inside later.”

 

The best way Jake could describe the party was as if it was your grandmother’s funeral mixed with a cliche coming-of-age film. All of the furniture was ancient, but the red solo cups bouncing in everyone’s hands as they danced or conversed overcame the beige by a longshot. Weed stung his nose as he drowned in the busy crowd, and every step he took on the floor stuck to his shoes.  

Immediately he knew had a problem. How would he be able to recognize the siblings? Up until this point, Jake had just assumed they’d all be sitting on giant golden thrones in the centre of the house, easy for Jake to spot and basically being handed to him on a  _ golden  _ platter.

There was never any security footage or stakeout photos available of all the Santiagos. The only sibling he would be able to recognize would be Pablo —the main drug lord— as a detective from the Seven-Three caught a photo of him a couple of years ago. An associate of the Gang had turned himself in and told the officers where one of his small hideouts in the south-end of Brooklyn was. The guy was excused of all of the small crimes he did while in the Gang for giving the information. Immediately three days later, he was found dead in the middle of a tennis court near the precinct.

The tennis court had some metaphorical meaning that Jake never understood. 

 

Jake found his way to the kitchen and poured himself some bright red punch. It hit his throat hard, but the sweetness balanced out the liquor that he assumed was vodka. He took a look around, slowly sipping on his drink. Like the cars outside, there were men and women in fancy suits and dresses, but also average citizens in casual wear and dirty bongs in their hands. The whole living room was a cloud of smoke, the occasional flicker from a lighter drawing Jake’s eyes from face to face, trying to recognize anyone.

 

_ I just know they’re Cuban, and all nerds. I’m too white to know what to look for specifically though! _

 

The music blaring from the other side of the house caught his ear, to a song he recognized. He walked towards Britney Spears’ voice and was introduced into another giant room with lots more people in it than the living room. Everyone was jumping around these two people standing on a table, one tall dark haired man wearing a full tuxedo and a very blonde woman in a very fancy turquoise dress that reminded Jake of a mermaid. But really any tight dress in a bright colour made him think of the mystical creature. 

Jake tapped his leg to the rhythm of the music, a small grin forming on his face. He finds himself starting to enjoy the party, the bad weed smell and all. The crowd becomes louder and Jakes looks over to see—

“PAR-TAY!” Jake raises his punch in the air, and the crowd yells louder. The man and woman on the table move close together, “Okeh and now they’re grinding on each other, time to look away!” 

“Tony! Get off the fucking table! You don’t always need to be the centre of attention.”

Jake immediately turned his head.

 

_ Bingpot! _

 

He recognized the bearded face surrounded in a halo of long silky hair within a heartbeat. He had women and men surrounding him like he was a Shakespearean play and they were his captivated audience. His suit was reflecting every light in the room, making the golden design seem to shimmer. 

It was Pablo Santiago. 

Two men (also wearing suits) appeared out of thin air behind Jake, seemingly coming from the kitchen and began moving the table the couple were dry-humping each other on just moments ago away into another part of the house. They left and came like robots, and the party continued on.

Jake’s next plan of attack was to converse with a Santiago. He observed Tony and Pablo chat with guests at ease, their charisma and charm radiating across the room to where Jake was. He feels a tap on his shoulder.

“You look a bit lonely. Do you want to dance?” 

It was a blonde haired woman around five-foot-two wearing her hair in a simply curled fashion, a hot pink dress accentuating all her curves. Her eye-makeup was as blinding as her innocent smile. She was attractive, but definitely not Jake’s type. Not that Jake really knew what his type was. As long as she wasn’t into dead-guy sex.

He nods at her, and she grabs his right hand gently and pulls him until they’re near the sofa to the right of the room. Jake locates all of his exits in the crowded room, noticing Pablo was leaning against a glass door that leads into the backyard.

“What’s your name?!” The woman calls, clearly a bit tipsy but also attempting to shout over the roaring piano of ABBA’s Dancing Queen.

“It’s Jake Peralta! I’m new in town.”

She smiles goofily, “Yeah, I can tell. I’m sure there’d be lots of talk about you if you were a regular. I’m Kylie.”

He doesn’t quite understand what that means, but he accepts it, “Thanks? What are you doing with a crowd like this?”

“Why do you ask so many questions? Gonna make me think you’re a cop,” Kylie looks serious for a moment, before cracking up again, “Ahhh, I’m just joking with you. I’m an employee at the Department of Records, but the real income comes from somewhere else if you know what I’m hinting at.”

“Oh!” Jake’s face brightens dramatically, “You sell drugs!”

“You could call it that, but I like to think I’m more of a sophisticated businesswoman in my deals.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say there’s much sophistication in selling illegal substances but I see where you’re coming from. Like Heisenberg!”

Jake cringes as he sees the offence on Kylie’s face. 

_ Okay, she does not like Breaking Bad references.  _

She leans closer to him, a dark shadow crossing across her soft features. Somehow, Jake was intimidated. “If you want to stay in this crowd Jake, I wouldn’t offend the Morir Duro. The way they run things around here is so sophisticated, it makes CIA levels of secrecy look like kindergarten gossip. How do you think they’ve been able to keep their cartel for over 15 years? This is the real shit, Jake. Don’t mess with the Morir Duro.”

Jake purses his lips. He feels the sweat between his shoulder blades, “Okay, first of all, that’s a really cool catchphrase. But it’s funny you mention all that because I was actually wanted to see if they needed any new members…”

The devil on Kylie’s face disappears, “Oh you should have mentioned that before! Why do you think they’re having this party anyway? I’m like best friends with all the Santiagos, actually. Well, really only one.”

“Oh, that’s great!” 

“Come with me. Let’s go find her. Knowing her, she’s probably hiding upstairs in her childhood bedroom reading a Harry Potter book.”

There were only two possibilities of which Santiago she was talking about. And one of them involved her being friends with a 60-year-old lady that the NYPD had no information on whatsoever. Jake could only presume that he was about to meet the only female Santiago sibling of the Morir Duro Gang: Amy Santiago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, it's been a busy week. There's only so much one guy with ADHD can write before his brain falls out.  
> And I may have been rewatching the John Wick films to get ready to see the 3rd film next week.  
> And playing Red Dead Redemption 2.
> 
> And as I said before, this is my first fanfiction so any advice or comments would be very appreciated!
> 
> See you all next week-ish for another update.
> 
> -lizardwizzard


	3. The Card Game

**The Morir Duro Castle**

**10:15 PM**

 

Jake and Kylie had searched the entire second floor for the only female Santiago sibling but only found drunken one-night-stands in the bathtub and in one of the boys’ old bedrooms. They went to the kitchen so Kylie could take another shot.

“I’m too sober for this. Maybe check around the first floor. She’s very noticeable. She has a very cartoony face.”

“Cool, cool, cool, no doubt,” Jake had no idea what that meant but began imagining Bugs Bunny’s face on a girl’s body. He actually wouldn’t be surprised if he found someone who looked like that; he already saw two people with rubber horse masks and one very tall man in a giraffe onesie that was definitely not made for someone over five-foot-six.

He wanders around the mansion with a linger in his step and his eyes in eagle-vision as he looked around for his Bugs Bunny. As he’s strolling through the main corridor beside the ascending staircase, he notices a very attractive woman with cinnamon skin gliding past him in her thigh-slit dress and a whiff of some perfume that reminded him of one of the girls he dated briefly in his sophomore year of high school.

_She owned a chameleon named Peppers! Not the incredibly beautiful woman in front of him, but his ex-girlfriend. Not that she wasn’t pretty either! Maybe she does own a chameleon you never know I can’t be one to judge—_

They steal looks at each other, and her hand finds a way up to his arm. She clearly was intoxicated, but Jake was so stunned by her eye-makeup and how pretty she was to look away.

_Her eye makeup is so sparkly!_

“Hey there,” she said, her eyes flickering up and down towards him.

Jake gives a small smile, “Hi,” he felt his detective senses tingling (or maybe it was something else), “are you Amy Santiago?”

Her satin features quickly morph into a canvas of betrayal and disgust, her hand moving into her body like touching him burned her, “How _dare_ you! That bitch just beat me in UNO! I can’t believe you would think I’m such an arrogant hoe.”

Jake clenches his teeth with panic, “Okay let’s not shame other women now, right? I’m sorry I thought you were her.”

“You better, sir,” her eyes cast down again with something Jake could only recognize from the bedroom, “apologize again.”

His eyes widen, “Oh okay you’re into the apologizing type, I get it. We should talk more about that later. Anyways, sorry,” Jake catches a breath and reminds himself to find this woman again before he leaves, but there is still a matter at hand. “Do you know where Amy is now? It’s about business.”

“Only if you can _promise_ it’s about business, mister,” she says, stroking his chest with her small hand lightly.

“Is it weird that I’m kinda into this? Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. I _promise_ it’s just for business. Think of it as an interview.”

She boops his nose, “Alright, I trust you. She’s in the dining room at the table with some other folks,” she looks down briefly, a small grin on her face, “Will I be seeing you around?”

Jake immediately spots the only girl with a Bugs Bunny cartoon-face laughing with a table of men with brightly-coloured cards in their hands across the hall.

“Yes. Definitely.”

 

Jake sensed that the only Santiago sister had just lost the most recent round of UNO. She was yelling and pointing a big, fat, finger across the ancient wooden table at some poor soul of a scrawny man that looked as if he would rather face death itself than be yelled at by Amy Santiago.

“That’s not how a reverse card works, Cameron! Read the rules next time you _bastard_!”

Cameron stumbles out of the chair and disappears into the crowd with his tail in between his legs. Jake slips into the unoccupied chair across from the woman with steam coming out of her ears.  

Jake smiles to her, “Count me in next round? I will say, I was a pro-UNO player back in my day—”

“Have you read the rules?” She interrupts him.

“Of course, m’lady. One does not challenge a chess player without knowing how to shoot first.”

Amy stops shuffling the cards in her hands, confusion muddled on her features, “Do you know how to play chess, stranger?”

~~

_It’s a warm summer at his Uncle Bob’s house in the backcountry. Jake’s tiny 8-year-old hands cock his BB gun and shoot the individual chess pieces his Uncle had placed a few feet away from him on the edge of the porch._

_“That’s how you play chess, boy! You’re a natural!”_

~~

Jake grimaces, “Pfft yeah . . . I know how to play.”

The girl across from him smiles with an unconvinced face, “Right,” she starts tossing cards around the table towards the players, “And you can juggle flaming knives while doing a handstand too.”

“Sadly I can’t, but that would be a really cool skill and I would _definitely_ show it off if I could.”

Jake picks up the seven cards in front of him. The lanky man to the left of the Santiago sibling throws down a red 6, and the game begins.

A few rounds in, and it gets around to Jake’s turn again and he puts down two yellow fours.

“So, what brings you to a party like this?” He asks the woman across from him, even though he already had the answer.

She looks up at him, her eyebrows frowning, “I’m surprised you don’t know that, Mr. I’m-A-Pro-At-Everything. I take it you’re new around here?”

Jake hears the mumbles of the crowd around him observing the game. “Alright, it seems I’m not in the loop here. But using my brilliant powers of deduction and the fact that there are over 20 people watching you play a card game for ten-year-olds, I can guess you’re important,” Jake pauses for dramatic effect, “You’re with the Morir Duro,”

Jake tried to hide his pride as he looked at her reaction.

“And more specifically, you’re a Santiago. Amy Santiago I’m guessing too because there’s only one female Santiago sibling,” Jake smirks, “and your name probably isn’t Pablo or Isaac because that would be a little weird—”

“Shut up.”

“Okeh,” Jake bites his bottom lip in anticipation.

The Santiago puts down her cards and looks back up at Jake with a look of astonishment. Then she clears her throat and in a flash, her face becomes a blank slate.

“That was very impressive of you,” she says in a neutral tone.

“Thanks,” the grin on Jake’s face shines like the sun.

She gives a small sincere grin at him and then looks back down at her cards.

“Uno,” the man to Jake’s left says.

“How do you have one card already?” Jake exclaims.

“What the—?” Santiago stutters, “This game is crap anyway. It’s all about luck.”

“Wait, do you guys play until there are only two people left or until one person is out?”

Santiago’s eyes widen, “We play by the _rules,_ ” she points towards the man with one card, “so once _he_ wins, we end the game.”

Jake frowns, “Well that’s no fun. UNO is the most intense when there are only two people left! How about we just keep playing until the last persons out? Will you be able to handle that, Santiago?”

The physical struggle that Jake could observe as Santiago was swirling around in a decision was laughable. Her shoulders were tense, her cards clenched in her hands, and her cartoon face had such deep crevices from her frown that it looked like the Mariana Trench.

Jake had never seen someone so stressed over not following the rules.

“Fine,” she says, leaning back in her chair, “I’m so chill. Whatever happens, happens, man.”

“Okay, you can stop with the facade, we all know you’re totally out of your comfort zone little hen but that’s alright! It’s part of the fun!” Jake exclaims, reaching out to pat her hand across the table in a friendly manner.

~

There are now only three players left in the game. Jake had to remind himself times that the fact that he is still one of those players is a bad thing. Except, it didn’t feel like it. As the game when on, more and more faces had gathered around as the energy at the table grew. The game had circled through Jake, Santiago, and the bearded guy to his right so many times that the real winner of the match had been long forgotten.

_It was the endgame, now. I am going to win this—_

Mr. Beard puts down a card that skips his turn.

“Damn it!”

Jake knows it’s time to get serious. The game comes back around to him, and he puts down his +4 wild card (that he had been saving all game for a moment like this,) and states blue. As Santiago’s fist slams on the table, Jake looks up at her with the biggest, goofiest grin she has ever seen.

“Screw you! How did you know I couldn’t play blue?”

“Simple guessing game. Or maybe it was the fact that you were bragging about how you put down five blue cards just a couple minutes ago? That _might_ have been it. If I can recall, you may have said one or two things about how it followed the rules. At least I _think_ it was supposed to be a brag, kind of a weird thing to brag about.” Jake makes a gang gesture with his hands, “Anywho, ya got played, son!”

With the growl of an angry goose, Cartoon Face picks up her four cards.

“Oh also UNO because somehow none of you realized I had one card left,” Jake beams.

 

 

**The Morir Duro Castle**

**1:10 AM**

 

The crowd was finally dispersing after the micro-rave Jake started after his not-so-legit UNO victory. The look on Santiago’s face after he won was a look he always wanted to remember. For a party full of criminals and being undercover, he was actually having a pretty enjoyable time.

He had somehow drifted to looking at a bookshelf with some Santiago family photos in expensive-looking frames among the dictionaries and encyclopedias. The front living room that had been emptied of aloof druggies and deep-pocketed suppliers alike after an intense game of Never Have I Ever had began in the back wing of the house. The shouting and music of the extremely drunk were muffled by the old walls of the house to where Jake was, and the silence was welcomed after all the excitement of the UNO game.

There was one photo in a baby blue frame that caught Jake’s eye. It was an older man and woman he had never seen before, reading books on the sofa that was right opposite to the shelf. They weren’t smiling, but their posture as they held their books and looked into the camera indicated they at least tolerated each other. The woman’s hand was on the man’s knee.

Something inside of Jake felt this was important. He whips out his phone and takes a photo of the image, and a couple of the other photos of the siblings as children, where he notices the same couple.

“ _Hola_ Mr. and Mrs. Santiago— ahh!”

Jake had been turning around as he was speaking and didn’t notice Bugs Bunny had come into the living room with a drink in her hand, looking fairly mellow. But that was ruined by Jake screaming.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just going to head out for a breather,” she says, pointing towards the grand front door just to Jake’s right.

“Yeah, no, no, it’s fine. I was just looking at—” Jake points to the photos behind him, “baby pictures. You were so cute! What happened?” He exclaims sarcastically, a mocking frown forming on his face.

“Wow, thanks,” she muses, rolling her eyes and then looking down at her feet.

Jake begins humming a made-up beat and she looks up again, “I don’t think I got your name,” she says.

“Oh! Yeah. I was too busy beating you at UNO.”

“First of all, technically we both lost _ages_ ago, but you wanted to not follow the rules and continue the game like some _weirdo_ so, for some reason, I let you and then somehow you _won_ even though you legally were an extreme loser and then . . .”

“My name’s Jake. Jake Peralta,” he interrupts her tangent with a small smile. He noted how the glowing yellow light from the lamp beside her bounced across her dark hair and reflected off her soft brown eyes. The entire ambience of the room made him feel like he was in Victorian England.

She takes a couple of steps forward and puts out her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Peralta.”

It was at that moment, Jake Peralta knew he was accepted into the Morir Duro Gang, AKA, the Santiago Crime Family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was super duper fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed. Honestly, writing this fic has been a blast, so I'm really glad there are some people out there enjoying it too, even if it isn't many people.
> 
> If you notice any grammatical errors or have any advice for my writing in the future, any feedback in the comments would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Have a wonderful week everybody!
> 
> (Also if anyone's asking, John Wick 3 was so freaking awesome!!!) 
> 
> \- lizardwizzard


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